


~how old?~

by Kaetastrophic



Series: The Misadventures Of DinDjarin and A Green Child [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Birthdays, Domestic, Gen, Parenthood, single parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:34:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22277950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaetastrophic/pseuds/Kaetastrophic
Summary: ~after the child sees a cake, he attempts to make his own~[pt3/?]
Series: The Misadventures Of DinDjarin and A Green Child [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602655
Comments: 5
Kudos: 92





	~how old?~

**Author's Note:**

> these are oneshots, but there are some uh,, lets say 'easter eggs' within each referring to each other. In case you haven't read any of my other manDADlorian oneshots, this one references Din as a 'walking canvas' a reference to ~results of parenthood~.
> 
> -  
> this oneshot is also [sorta] continues into a part2,, but it can still be read by itself. :)

The curious duo walked down the busy street market on the forest planet. The child was happily snuggled in Din’s right arm, as it wouldn’t settle in the backpack-carrier so Din was forced to hold him instead.

The armour attracted attention as always, eyes glancing over at Din and then at the child. Din had gotten used to the stares every since he began bounty-hunting but now he had to get used to the concerned but then amused looks he now received, due to the child and probably the fact he was still a walking canvas for the explorative child.

Din ignored the usual whispered and approached a stall to get some supplies. To Din’s relief, the child didn’t reach over to grab stuff or make a scene. Once he made the purchases he continued over to find the rest of the stuff on the list.

The child made a small whine. Din glanced down at it. “Don’t worry, we’re almost done,” he comforted it, walking forward. He slowed down when the child began to flail its arms as if it were trying to reach something behind him.

Din turned around to see what it wanted. To his surprise, he found they had passed a small stall where beside it had a hut, where he assumed the family who owned the stall, lived. In front of the hut was a table with children surrounding it, with baked goods on it.

_A birthday,_ Din realized. He paused as well, remembering the very few birthdays he had. He didn’t even properly know his own age, let alone when he was born. The short memories he did have of birthdays were happy ones, with his family. But they were faint and almost gone in his memory.

Din looked down at the child, who was staring at the scene. “It’s a birthday party, ad’ika,” he explained, placing his hand onto the child’s. “It’s to celebrate one’s age,” he continued, even though he knew the child wouldn’t understand a thing he said. “See the candles? How ever many there are symbolizes how old the person is,”

The child blew a raspberry and wriggled about in Din’s arm, making him almost drop him. “No, stop moving, I’m going to drop you,” Din grabbed the child with two hands and frowned at it. “Come on,” he sighed. “I’m tired too,” he picked up the other bags and they continued on their journey to find supplies.

\--

Din chucked the stuff into the small kitchen’s cupboards and quickly checked on the child, who was playing outside with the mud _. He’d have to give him a shower before they leave again_ , Din thought, as he entered the even smaller bathroom. He kept the door open so he could still hear the child play eagerly outside.

Din leaned against the wall as he took his gloves off and placed them onto the side of the sink. He stared at the mirror through his visor and sighed. He lifted his arms to take off his helmet, his fingers feeling the cold metal of the surface. He closed his eyes and took off the helmet and put it on the floor, there being no other spot to put it.

He winced at the sight of his own face, dried blood scatter about, his hair sweaty and dirty. _He needed to have a shower too,_ he sighed, getting some water from the tap to rinse his face a bit. After refreshing himself a bit, he quickly got his helmet again, suddenly feeling the air touch his now clean cheeks, and put it back on.

Just as he was about to leave, he glanced into the mirror again. He had spotted a small drawing he didn’t have before, graffiti onto his helmet. He placed his fingers onto it before he put his glove back on. It was a very wonky, but identifiable, drawing of Din’s helmet. It was placed near his right temple. _He must’ve drawn it while I was asleep,_ Din figured, slipping his glove back on since he had his helmet on every other moment of the day and he didn’t recall the child being near him with a marker for the past twelve hours.

As he was shutting the door, he heard the child squeal. His instincts kicked back in and he drew his blaster, sprinting down the open ramp. “What happened?” he asked, frantically, looking around. There was no child, just many holes and patterns in the muddy ground made by the child.

Din slowly looked around, his hand tightening on his blaster. He heard another wail from the child, behind the ship.

As he went to look, he spotted flames and he sprinted forward. “What happened?” he asked again, picking up the child, who was standing uncomfortably near a small fire. “What’d you do?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. He looked around to see if anyone was there.

The flames lowered, become smaller. The child wailed again, wriggling about. He wanted to be put down. Din carefully lowered the child onto the ground. He stepped forward to pick it up again when it began to waddle to the small fire but paused when he saw what was on fire.

It was a big wad of mud and grass squished together to make a sort of flat ball with short sticks poking out the top of it (the top of it was also burning though).

The child carefully picked up the mud thing and walked over to Din. Din frowned, wide-eyed at his kid. He knelt down, as he realized the child was walking to him. “What’s this?”

The child put the mud thing into Din’s hands and look up at him proudly.

Din blinked blankly at his child. “What is it?” he asked slowly. The child clapped its hands, as it normally did when it was excited. Din looked back down at what he was holding. The fire had begun to completely diminish.

_A cake._ Din suddenly realized. The child had made a mud cake to mimic the one they had seen at the market. “Oh,” he muttered, putting the ‘cake’ onto the floor. “Did you make me a cake?” he sat on the floor, slightly cross-legged.

The child clapped its hands happily and dug its hands in the mud to pull out another clump. He moulded it into a ball and then slapped it so it was flattened. The child sat down too and picked up a stick to stab into the mud and then proudly presented it to his father. It was smaller than the ‘cake’ he had previously made.

“Oh?” Din accepted the smaller ‘cake’ and held it. The child looked at him eagerly. “It’s…a mud cake?” Din said, unsure of what to do.

The child opened its mouth and then closed it. Din realized what he wanted him to do. Eat the mud cake. “I can’t eat this,” Din explained.

The child crawled up him and tried to reach for his helmet. Din smiled underneath the helmet. “It’s not the helmet, this is mud. I’ll get sick,” he lowered the cake. “You know what?” he stood up, holding the kid. “Let’s make a cake. I think we’ve had enough of my badly made bread, I think I might have a cake recipe somewhere,” The child blinked at his father in ~~slight~~ confusion.

Din grinned underneath his helmet as he entered his ship. _This was going to be fun_ ,

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!  
> [for more/completed works, find me on wattpad @/ flirtingwithdeath000]


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